


Funding

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crack, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Rent Boy Jack, Roleplay, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 17:11:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14856803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: During his vigilante years Jack finds that the easiest way to earn money for supplies is the world's oldest profession. All the better when his one and only loyal customer happens to be his estranged husband.





	Funding

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a silly idea of a twitter thread, and then I cleaned it up. Enjoy the shenanigans

There’s a seedy little bar in the less-than-nice part of town, located near several industrial warehouses and a cargo train station. It draws all sorts of unsavoury folks, perfect for openly discussing deals or finding someone to do any kind of service imaginable for the right price, and nobody looks twice even if your face is recognizable from wanted posters.

It’s a sort of honour among thieves going on, and one can get all sorts of goods talking to the right guy. Contraband, drugs, weapons, and sometimes even spare parts for experimental gear that even the world’s military organisations struggle to get a hold of sometimes.

This is what draws the Soldier there initially. Dressed in worn jeans and an old leather jacket he blends in just fine. Just another older small time criminal, or perhaps a mercenary. He didn’t bring his rifle or most of his gear, but even so it is clear from the way he moves that he’s not just another old man.

He’s not running low on anything yet, but it never hurts to have enough of what he needs to fix his visor and pulse rifle in case of an emergency.

Sitting down at the bar he orders a drink, not enough to even give him a buzz but still a pleasant burn down his throat and something to help him blend in. Nobody is paying attention to him as he looks around, taking in the people playing cards or talking over their drinks. He can guess at what they can offer, but it’ll take a while to find someone who has what he needs.

He brings his glass to his lips to take a sip when somebody catches his eye. It’s a man he’s seen before, tall with broad shoulders, a slightly patchy beard and red blond hair that’s tied back in a queue.

Simply known as Dan on the streets and among other criminals, he’s nowhere near the top of the Soldier’s list. He hadn’t even been on the list at all until a month ago, when he’d first arrived in town. Dan was just someone to look out for, a nasty sort of weapons’ dealer who was selling to gang members who were working with Deadlock. Knowingly.

It was enough to have the Soldier feel like he might as well intervene, and to accidentally run into Dan in a bar…

Dan’s grey eyes move over to the Soldier, all attention on him. He doesn’t shift as he’s watched, and within seconds he realizes the man was certainly on his way past tipsy, and bold enough to stare at a stranger with open lust in his expression.

Jack has to keep himself from laughing. He’s always drawn looks. But now he’s old, scarred, and rough, and he attracts an entirely different kind of man than he had in his youth. It‘s flattering, somehow.

Dan gets up and saunters over with the confidence of a man who has never doubted the size of his dick and the pleasure it can bring.

He sits down next to Jack and leans forward, grinning.

“Hey there, big guy. You mind me buying you another drink?”

Jack smirks and leans his head to the side, running his eyes up and down Dan’s body as if he’s taking him in and liking what he sees.

“Not at all.”

He gets that drink, and a companion at that. Dan is charming in some rough way, not too bad a flirt for the type of people he’s around usually perhaps.

Jack flirts back, full of the kind of sexual confidence that comes with old age, and the coy flirting of a teenaged farm boy with way too much time on his hands and boredom to boot. He hadn’t had to use that type of behaviour since he joined the military, where he ended up in a stable relationship against all odds, which kind of made it unnecessary to hone his flirting skills any longer.

Then Dan starts hinting at having money, his eyes running over Jack’s body where his muscles strain against his slightly worn clothes, and it’s too easy.

Jack leans in, smiles, and bites his lip.

“Let’s find a quieter place then. Even a guy like you can’t afford having me put on a show, big guy.”

They end up in the alley.

His mark is way too horny to second guess himself, and his open desire is making Jack’s blood roar. It feels good to be wanted, even if nothing will come of it.

Nobody is around when they walk a little further away from the bar. They can still hear the music and general noise, which is enough to mask any activities one might pursue in this place. Sex, drugs, beating up a guy you were gonna track down eventually anyway…

It’s lucky really, now Jack has a nice little ego boost from being wanted by a man who ought to be more clever about what bedmates he chooses, as well as a nice chunk of money he’s being offered anyway. He can use that for supplies and maybe actually buying some food that isn’t canned, as well as getting to teach a weapons seller a lesson.

Jack leans against the brick wall and tilts his chin up, baring his neck. He smiles sweetly as Dan tugs out a wad of money to poke out of his pocket teasingly, something to excite Jack besides the promise of sex. He watches as Dan scrambles to open his belt, somehow feeling petty enough to wait until he has him with his ass bare before starting.

He could use a good laugh.

They never get that far.

Something grabs Dan and shoves him back a few feet before he manages to pull his dick free, a low animalistic growl telling him to piss off.

Jack doesn’t need to look to know who the newcomer is. He’s more than familiar enough with the Reaper, though he is a little bit surprised that today of all days he happened to be following this closely, and that he showed himself at all.

Usually Reaper was nearby when Jack was tracking down Talon operatives or trying to raid old Overwatch bases, neither of which had been on his mind that night.

He watches as Reaper stands between him and Dan, who, honestly, is impressively composed about facing down a monster with his underwear on display.

“Fuck off,” Reaper growls again, flexing his claws.

“I’ve paid for the company, go find your own piece of ass!” Dan hisses back in kind, and Jack feels a flattered by having somebody be into him enough not to run at the first sign of danger.

Reaper tilts his face down to the wad of money that had fallen in the brief scuffle, kicks it up, and tosses it at Dan.

“This all you’ve got? I could easily triple that and even the most loyal whore’s gonna change their mind about who to do business with.”

Dan opens his mouth to argue, but a glance at the smoke billowing around Reaper and the sharpness of his claws make him reconsider.

Jack is still leaning against the wall casually, watching as Dan scrambles off. He throws a glance at Reaper, and doesn’t flinch when the mask shifts to stare him down with those dead empty eyes of his.

He runs a tongue over his lips and shrugs.

“So…” he says, canting his hips.

As if his face isn’t openly displayed, as if he isn’t laughably unarmed compared to Reaper. As if he doesn’t know who the man in front of him is, or as if he doesn’t know that this is a wanted terrorist he’s speaking to.

“You gonna follow up on that promise or what?”

Whatever Reaper expected, it wasn’t that, and he looks taken aback by the reaction.

“What?” he snaps.

“Triple the amount?” Jack says with a casual flick of his wrist. “I’ll use my hand. Five times the amount, I’ll suck you off. Ten times… listen sugar, for that you can fuck me any way you like.”

For the first time in six years the mercenary looks completely lost. It’s as if somebody took the batteries out of a toy, and it’s nearly funny.

Jack writhes against the wall, letting out a theatrical moan. It sounds silly with his rough voice, but whatever.

“So? What’s it gonna be?”

“You can’t be serious,” Reaper says, and despite the monstrous voice he sounds so uncertain.

“If you’re not gonna pay I’ll go right back to the bar and find someone who’s gonna shell out what I’m worth,” Jack teases, enjoying this little game way too much.

“NO!”

Finally Reaper moves, crowding Jack against the wall with his chest, looming over him.

“Five… Five times the amount.”

“Whatever you say, sugar,” Jack laughs, and drops to his knees without any further preamble.

His husband’s dick tastes familiar and just the way it had for decades, on some base level. Jack doesn’t mind the strange new texture of his skin, or the faint smell of ash. He just missed the weight on his tongue.

Reaper is soft when Jack pulls him free and takes him in his mouth, but that’s changing quickly. His body language is still stiff though, holding back and too caught off guard to enjoy it yet.

Jack moans loud enough to put any pornstar to shame and that does the trick.

He feels Gabe’s resolve break the second a distorted whimper breaks through the mask and claw tipped hands grab at his hair. Within seconds his estranged husband is like putty in his hands.

Any command, any wish, Jack knows from experience that right now, with Gabriel’s dick down his throat, he can make him do absolutely anything. He aches uncomfortably with his arousal, but he has a show to put on, so he keeps himself from touching his own body and curls his hands against Gabe’s belts.

Gabriel comes far too quickly, crying out and claws pressing against Jack’s scalp without breaking skin. It makes Jack wonder if he’s even jerked off in the past years if he’s reacting like that, panting harshly and legs shaking. His lips don’t even feel numb from the work yet.

Jack rises to his feet and makes a show of wiping his mouth. He smiles as Gabe leans against him heavily, seeking the closeness. He’d always been cuddly after a climax.

“Hey sugar,” Jack chuckles as Gabriel makes an attempt to wrap his arms around his waist, body pliant against Jack’s. “So about that cash…”

He doesn’t need to see Gabe’s face to know that he’s staring with his mouth hanging open stupidly.

“What-“

“Did I suck your brains out? You’ve got to give me some of that promised cash for my service, sugar.”

He knows he did his job well when Gabriel actually reaches into his coat shakily and produces money so crisp Jack wonders if it’s freshly printed. Reaper doesn’t protest the situation as he hands the money over, as if they hadn’t done this countless times before, as if Jack hadn’t _begged_ him to get to suck his dick on some occasions.

Jack makes a show of counting the money before he tucks it away and smiles up at Reaper sweetly.

“Was a pleasure doing business with you. Hope I’ll see you around.”

“Y-Yeah.”

Reaper truly must not be thinking straight, as he just stays where he is without a single attempt to stop Jack as he leaves. He doesn’t try to follow either.

By the time Jack makes it back to his shitty safehouse he is starting to regret not staying to let Gabe do him. It’s been a while since he’d been fucked good, and something about playing that role while getting to taste his husband again was strangely thrilling.

He drops on his creaky bed and opens his pants without preamble, jacket and fresh stack of money tossed on the nightstand.

Perhaps he should have tried that sort of thing years ago, Jack muses as he licks his fingers and sticks his hand down his waistband to take care of the arousal that had made itself known the second Reaper had shown up. Who could have known that Gabe was in that sort of roleplay? It had never been among the things they’d tried when they’d wanted to spice up their sex life.

Jack eyes the sizeable stack of money next to him as he starts rubbing lazily. And who knew that Gabe was _loaded_ now?

 

*

It happens over and over.

Each time Jack is up and about without his mask and gear to mingle with the lowlife of cities he’s in, Reaper seems to be nearby, ready to pay for his ‘services’.

The first few times, Jack makes a half hearted attempt to start telling Reaper to drop the bullshit act. The first time was for fun, after all.

Then he thinks of how much more relaxing it is to just have a steady flow of cash to saunter into black markets to buy whatever supplies he needs, and how he got to buy an actual vintage bike with real wheels without worrying about wasting cash on a vehicle he might need to ditch.

So why _not_ fuck his husband under these conditions?

He half suspects that Reaper won’t fuck him otherwise, that Reaper somehow needs this little game to justify fucking his enemy every other week or more. He can keep his delusions, it doesn’t bother Jack that much.

And _fuck him_ he does. Jack has never held so much physical money in his hands before, and he aches all over from Reaper putting his all into every encounter after the first. It’s hard to decide which part of the deal he likes the most. 

When Gabe goes down on him for the first time, revealing newly razor sharp teeth and a tongue turned into something frankly obscene, Jack figures that really it’s him who should be paying Gabe for this sort of service.

But hey, if his husband needs the pretence of a business transaction for this? Who’s Jack to deny his beloved?

 

***

 

The vigilante known as Soldier: 76 had been a thorn in Talon’s side before. Now he is a steadily twisting knife to the gut.

“Explain to me, _how_ he is getting so many supplies so easily?” Akande hisses, the steadily growing list of sabotage reports on the screens breaking even his composure a little.

Everyone is shrugging helplessly, muttering excuses, looking about worriedly.

For years they had been up against a one-man army with one pulse rifle and a tactical visor. Now it seemed like that one man also had the entire arsenal of several armies at his disposal as well. Most recently the Soldier had even started hiring small time criminals to sabotage Talon operations all over the world where he wasn’t currently operating himself.

How a vigilante could afford to pay them off was beyond the group of Talon captains.

“Enough. Find out who his contacts are. He can’t be doing this without help from outside so suddenly,” Akande says, shutting up and dismissing the scared Talon operatives. Then he turns to look at the only other high ranking member in the room.

“And you, Reaper, will double your efforts in tracking and taking him down. We can no longer tolerate his presence.”

“Understood,” Reaper says, rising from his seat and walking out of the control room, leaving Akande to brood over the newest reports.

He’s halfway to his room when he spots Sombra leaning against the wall, raising an eyebrow at him with a subtle smile. Subtle for her, anyway.

“You are much more pleasant to be around these days,” she says. “Finally getting laid, are you?”

“Mind your own business,” Reaper tells her, not slowing down as he ignores her.

He locks the door to his room behind him firmly, hissing. He doesn’t even care if she knows. Because even _she_ can’t possibly known how the Soldier being able to hire gangs now is Reaper’s fault.

Because like an idiot he’d given him enough money to pay off a small army, just to _watch_ him pleasure himself. He didn’t even get to come that time. It had been the dumbest thing he’d ever spent money on, for sure.

The dumbest perhaps… but still worth it.

With a snort Reaper opened the small safe in his room, taking out a portion of the money his mercenary ways had earned him.

Because really, what was the point of it if he didn’t get to occasionally blow it on pleasure of after all.


End file.
